


Various hhanon meme fills - sexytiems edition

by Dracothelizard



Category: Horrible Histories
Genre: Crack, Kink Meme, Multi, Self-Flagellation, Self-Hatred, Wall Sex - Literally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-22 23:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11390643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracothelizard/pseuds/Dracothelizard
Summary: These are various fills from the old hhanon meme. These are my non-gen/smutty fills.Originally written back in 2011.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Charles II/A Wall because its there?
> 
> Ok, so the Charles II + Elizabeth I prompt above mentioned how Charles would even flirt with the wall; a similar prompt (Kirk/Wall) floated around the Star Trek TOS meme a while ago.
> 
> So, Charles attempts to have sex with a wall. Bonus points for his descendant Capt. Kirk showing up!

"Why, hello there, you gorgeous thing!" Charles purred, eyeing the wall up and down. "Such _luxurious_ wallpaper you have!"  
  
He ran his hands down the wall, caressing the wallpaper, and let his finger trace the pattern.  
  
"No, no, it suits you," he said, nodding firmly. Such very _beautiful_ wallpaper. "It's daring. I _love_ it."  
  
The bumps of the embossed pattern felt good underneath his fingertips, breaking up the smoothness of the wallpaper itself.  
  
"And we match so well together," he murmured, as he pressed himself against the wall. It felt amazingly good, and he moaned a little. "I know it seems _awfully_ forward of me..."  
  
He pressed both his hands firmly against the wall now, marvelling at the feel of it. He bit his lip as he wondered how it would feel against other parts of his body.  
  
"I cannot resist you any longer," he muttered. "I must have you!" He rubbed himself against the wall, whimpering at the contact.  
  
His clothes were in the way, he had to get them off. But that meant _not touching the wall_. He leaned his forehead against it, whimpering again with need.  
  
"You are a temptress," he whispered, finally tearing one hand off the wall and pushing down his breeches with some difficulty. He giggled. "Don't deny it, my sweet!"  
  
He moaned as he finally managed to get his breeches out of the way. Yes, rubbing himself against the wall _now_ felt so much better. He pressed fevered kisses on the wallpaper, tracing the embossed pattern with the tip of his tongue, and let his hands slide across it.  
  
"You don't know what you're doing to me," he panted. "Oh God, you are marvellous!"  
  
There was a polite cough behind him.  
  
He froze.  
  
"Your Majesty."  
  
Charles slowly turned his head, to see Sotherby stand there, clearly trying to keep his face emotionless. "Yes?" he managed.  
  
"Do you think you could, er, _not_..." Sotherby trailed off, and gestured at him. "Do that anymore? The cleaning staff has, ahem, _some_ difficulty with the stains."  
  
Charles gave him a stiff nod. "Will do, Sothers. I was only _admiring_ my own taste in interior design."  
  
Sotherby was now looking a little flushed. "Perhaps you could do that elsewhere, Your Majesty. Say, in your bedroom? That's very... well-furnished."  
  
"Splendid idea, Sothers!" Charles laughed nervously, leaning back and quickly pulling his breeches up without letting Sotherby see anything. "You're, er, dismissed."  
  
Sotherby gave him a swift bow, and walked off.  
  
Charles looked at the wallpaper. "Until tomorrow, my sweet," he murmured, trailing his hand over it one last time before retiring to his rooms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mr. Fight the Good Fight of Faith - solo
> 
> Because that moment where he started whipping himself... did things to me. So... self-flagellation; guilty, guilty masturbation... the works!

Enjoyment was sinful, he reminded himself. Enjoying the pain of actors, enjoying their shame as they were forced in the stocks in front of everyone and _whipped_ , that was definitely sinful.  
  
He shuddered at the memory, and tried to ignore the sensations deep inside him, in a place that he _really_ shouldn't think about.  
  
Just to be sure, he whipped himself again, gasping, as always, at the feeling of leather on his abused skin.  
  
No, no, that was enjoyment again. That was sinful. He took a deep breath, and whipped himself again, but harder.  
  
It really didn't help those twisted feelings inside. What sort of sinful perverted creature was he, that he was enjoying the pain?   
  
He tried to put himself in their place. How would he feel if he was whipped in front of crowd? Punished and embarrassed with all those people watching him, judging him?   
  
Disapproving of him?   
  
That thought sends another hot jolt down his body and he really _really_ shouldn't enjoy those thoughts. Those thoughts were most definitely sinful.  
  
He whipped himself again, harder this time, but it didn't help. The thoughts didn't go away. The feelings didn't go away. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. It was fine, he just needed to think of other things for a moment. Distract himself.  
  
But how could he when he was still clutching his whip? When his shirt was scratchy and painful on his back, on the spots where he had hit himself? When his - his parts were hard and rigid? How was he supposed to ignore those feelings?   
  
They were a temptation, he told himself sternly. Things to be ignored. Things that would only lead to sin, to impure thoughts, to behaviour that needed punishment. It was times like these when he wished he could tell somebody else, so that they could punish him accordingly. But who could he tell? His fellow Puritans would be disgusted by his feelings, and would no longer want anything to do with him.  
  
He could imagine their scorn and disapproval already, the way they would sneer at the way he was shamefully whipping himself for the thoughts he couldn't help but have.  
  
And imagining that definitely didn't help. His parts grew harder, more demanding of his attention.

He stared down as he whipped himself again, wincing at the pain and yet somehow relishing in it.   
  
Would it really be so terrible, to give into temptation just once? Just this once? He would duly punish himself for it afterwards. Buy himself a new whip, one that was harder, more vicious.   
  
They made whips with metal parts in them now, he'd heard. He could only imagine how that would feel on his back, on his naked skin even. Cool, and sharp at the same time, he imagined. The metal parts of the whip would certainly ensure that he would be punished for his sinful thoughts and actions.  
  
He looked down again, at the crotch of his breeches. Now that he had his punishment planned, it wouldn't be so terrible to give in. He grabbed his whip with his left hand, letting his right hand slide down. Perhaps if he punished himself during, that would make up for it as well. He whipped himself, whimpering at the pain, at how it didn't make the urges inside him go away. If anything, it increased them.  
  
He slide his hand inside his breeches, moaning at how good it felt, then felt ashamed. This wasn't supposed to be enjoyed, it was merely to be endured. And here he was, wasting it.   
  
It wasn't nearly as good whipping himself using his left hand, it didn't strike nearly as hard, but the pain sufficed. It sufficed as a reminder that what he was doing was wrong, that he should be the one in the stocks being whipped. He wrapped his hand around himself, and bit back a groan.   
  
He needed a punishment more severe than this, more severe than what he could do to himself with a whip, but how? The stocks were a start, of course, as was having someone else whip him. Someone could hit him harder, the way he deserved.  
  
The tension inside him was building, and he hated how it responded to his plans of punishment. He wasn't supposed to enjoy the punishment, not when he was thinking these sinful thoughts and acting on them.   
  
Oh, how he was acting on them.  
  
Maybe, he thought, moving his fist furiously, it would be better if he finished it quickly. That would be better, wouldn't it? Finish it quickly rather than let the feeling build up gradually until it threatened to overwhelm.  
  
He gasped, thrusting into his fist. Yes, finishing it quickly was definitely necessary. He gripped his whip tight as he moved his hand faster, a reminder of his punishment. He would get that whip with the metal ends, he would. And he would punish himself most severely with it, until his back would ache for weeks, until he could no longer move without feeling the scratch and the pain of his shirt on his back, a reminder of his shame, of his sin.  
  
And with that thought, he finished, spilling into his hand. The feeling of immense relief and pleasure was quickly replaced by the familiar feeling of shame. How could he have let himself get carried away like this, he thought, as he wiped his hand and felt nothing but disgust for himself.  
  
Yes, he would definitely need to order a new whip. Soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: George I/Robert Walpole
> 
> http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lxlvmaEMLW1qlf4uwo1_500.png
> 
> George keeping Robert under his desk for a day. ;)

"Your Majesty!"   
  
"Ja?"   
  
Lord Townshend sighed. "We're in Britain, your Majesty. English, please."  
  
The King nodded. "Yes?"   
  
He smiled at the King. They would get there eventually. "I was just wondering if you had seen Sir Walpole anywhere?"  
  
"Robert? Nein! I mean, er, no!" the King replied, starting to flush.  
  
"It's nothing to worry about, your Majesty, I just haven't seen him all morning," Lord Townshend said. He knew it must be worrying that Robert had gone missing like that.   
  
The King gasped at that, closing his eyes briefly.  
  
"But I'm sure he'll turn up!" he quickly said. Robert enjoyed his job too much to simply disappear.   
  
"Ye-yes, I am, ah, sure he will," the King said, a little breathless.   
  
Lord Townshend sighed. "I will let you know immediately when he returns."   
  
"Danke... _Thank_ you, I mean!" the King exclaimed, his eyes wide. "Thank you very much."   
  
He bowed. "Is there anything else I can do for you? Go through the latest reports from the United Provinces, perhaps?"  
  
"Nein, no, that -" the King let out an odd cough. "that will not be needed. Da-Thank you." He closed his eyes again, biting his lip.  
  
The King was acting very strangely. "Would you like me to open a window, your Majesty?" he asked. "It very warm in here." He smiled. "We've finally got a nice, sunny day in Britain."  
  
The King laughed at that, his breathing laboured afterwards. "I - I will have someone else do it," he said, still panting. "You may leave now, Lord -" he gasped again. "Lord Townshend!"   
  
He would have to pay a visit to the royal physician soon, Lord Townshend promised himself. After he had found Robert.  
  
*  
  
George pushed his chair back, and glared down.   
  
"What?" Robert asked, smirking up at him from underneath the desk. "You _asked_ me to motivate you when you were speaking English..."


End file.
